Card Tricks
by JK-Chan
Summary: A half introspective adventure in Allen's olden days while training under Cross. Rated for poker and gambling references.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** "D.Gray-man" and all characters belong to Hoshino Katsura and affiliates.

**Author's Note:** My first D.Gray-Man fanfiction to commemorate Christmas and Allen's Mana-appointed birthday. I've always wanted to make a fanfic about Allen's olden days while training under Cross Marian (especially the part where he did the card tricks thingy). Somehow, though, Allen's past just got mingled in the middle of the story, creating this half comedy, half introspective spawn… I quite like it myself, actually. I hope you all find it the same. As always, R&R is encouraged and appreciated. Thanks! XD

**P.S.** Merry Christmas, _minna_! And happy birthday to Allen! ;-)

**Japanese Vocabularies:**

- _Akuma_: literally 'demon', but you know the other meaning here, right?

- _Aitsu_: that guy.

* * *

-

**-- CARD TRICKS --**

-

'_Away for Tunisia.'_

12-year-old Allen Walker couldn't believe his eyes as he stared at the brief words written on a piece of paper Cross left him. The white-haired boy had just had an encounter with an _akuma _a few hours ago and, feeling awfully worn out, instantly fell asleep when he had barely even touched the bed — only to wake up and find out that Cross Marian had left him on his own… again. He couldn't believe it. His master had just left him for **China** a couple of nights ago, and now he left him yet again?! "_Aitsu…_" he hissed as he crumbled the paper in his hand and threw it across the room grudgingly.

Allen yawned, flopped himself onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling — eyes narrowing in a lazy manner. He had been training under Cross for 8 months now, and one thing that he learnt the most was that, if the master didn't want to be found, he **wouldn't** be found… The boy sighed and averted his gaze. / _Everything happened so fast… _/ he thought as he reminisced about Mana's death, his meeting with The Earl, the curse… he absent-mindedly touched his left eye. The curse Mana gave him was ironically a very good asset in his field of job.

And then, of course, the inevitable meeting with Cross Marian, his exorcism master. He was a peculiar person indeed, that teacher of his... At a glance, one wouldn't have thought that he was a powerful exorcist general — mainly because Cross was carefree, selfish, manipulative, flirtatious, **extremely** irresponsible, and just every other negative quality Allen could think of… except for his looks, maybe, for the master seemed to be surrounded by hoards of pretty ladies who were willing enough to lend him money without any deadline nor interest.

The boy's right eye twitched in annoyance. _/ All he's good at is flirting with women and shamelessly borrowing money! _/ he thought to himself. / _Oh, well… at least I'm not going to be burdened with chores Master usually gives me or face another nightmarish training… _/ Allen shuddered at the very thought of it. Cross' way of training was **indeed** notorious in The Black Organization, what with his way of using 'practical approaches' that quickly turned into irresponsible way of teaching ("Theories? You don't need them… just kill that _akuma_, I'll be drinking Whiskey under that tree.").

The white-haired boy sighed again and decided to stay in the stuffy room for another minute before he got terribly bored… So, having no other things to do, he thought about going out for a walk. The clear-gray eyes swiftly glimpsed at the window. Snowing. Yes, a coat was definitely in order. Allen automatically got up and went under the bed where he kept his most precious item — a long coat. **Mana's** long coat… He fumbled about for a while before his small hand touched the warm, slightly damped fabric and pulled it out.

It was an old coat, really, nothing special about it. But Allen treasured it just as much. He scrutinized the details of the faded wools in his hands; gently wiping dusts that stubbornly kept on nestling themselves back on the shabby cloth. How he wished he had a case to keep it inside… But he had to settle with it. After all, his master's habit of rapidly fleeing from one country to another only meant that he had to keep a pace with him — in other words, no time to worry about matters aside from their exorcism duties…

Allen blinked and shook his head to clear his mind from his worries. It was not the time to be thinking about his problems; he wanted to think about his past… The boy gave a gentle smile as old memories crept into his mind. He could clearly remember it; the first time he saw the brown coat. It was when Mana had first found him — a 9-year-old who shivered in the cold of December air, rubbing petite hands together and blowing warm breaths onto them. His cheeks were red from the frost that threatened to consume him had Mana not pitied the little boy and decided to take him under his wing.

The white-haired British had always been very grateful of meeting his foster father, though he did flinch once when Mana tried to approach him at first. Strangers were to be suspected, anyway. But then again, Little Allen had never witnessed a look so gentle, a smile so sincere, and voice so soothing before… The boy remembered precisely the very voice that promised salvation back then; the earnestly-asked "Do you want to come with me?"and, of course, the compelling "Welcome back home" of Mana's…

… He missed them; the greetings, the warm smiles, the gentle looks — he missed the one man all those things belong to. He missed Mana Walker. A single tear threatened to spill over his strangely stained left cheek, as if the cursed eye grieved over the death of its caster. Allen tried all his might to blink that tear back. There was no use crying over spilt milk; he knew he couldn't have Mana back now. He tried it once and suffered the consequences — he wasn't going to tempt his fate and try again… The pain was simply too much, for both Mana and him.

The young apprentice shut his eyes and took a deep breath. _/ Enough of that. /_ he thought as he exhaled. Without further ado, the boy stood up from his kneeling position, went to the door, and exited the room…

Allen and his master were actually staying in a local inn for an obvious reason mentioned above. So, Allen had to inform the innkeeper that he was going out for a while (after what happened the last time they stayed in an inn, all innkeepers across England wouldn't be so trusting as to let any of the two went out unnoticed). Allen himself had given a grueling attempt to convince the man that he was really **only** going to take a stroll down town before the man let him go, suspicious stares following behind… The boy sweat dropped — his master was surely destroying their image (and more or less every other exorcist's image as well) by freeloading every now and then.

"Well, it can't be help, really," the boy muttered instinctively to himself. "It's not like we have a lot of money to begin with…" he continued as he draped the coat to his much smaller body and took a step. The snow was quite thick this year, and he reckoned it was only going to get thicker. It was precisely at times like this when Mana would light the fire and sit in front of the burning woods, telling stories to Allen or simply sitting there together to enjoy the warmth in the freezing season.

Allen gave a small frown. _/ Why am I remembering this again? I will finally end up thinking about — /_

A flash of unwanted memory forced itself into his mind; that of blood, pain, and anguish. Glimpses of strange machinery, bloodied snow, and sinister looks of an evil entity suddenly haunted him...

The boy's eyes widened while he quickly glanced away, as if he could drive the bad memories away by doing so. His body started to involuntarily shiver… _/ I don't want to remember that! _/ he half-pleaded to no one in particular as he wrapped himself in a tight, desperate embrace.

The boy's pace accelerated itself gradually — and within seconds, he broke into a run; his little legs jabbing the hard snow in a frantic manner while he made a dash forward. He didn't know where he was heading or why he was running at all, but his mind kept on giving him the urges to run… Running from the past, running from the nightmares, running from —

"OOFH!" a deep, low voice grunted as Allen collided with someone. "Ouch…" he softly groaned as he fell hard to the ground, scratching his upper arm in the process. The exorcist-in-training was gingerly tending to his wound when he realized that he had gotten himself into another trouble…

A big, burly man, who seemed to be in his late 40s, peered down at the boy with face contorted into an angry snarl. He furiously bent down and took his fallen hat while blurting out to Allen in the harshest, most offending tone the boy had ever heard, "Bloody HELL!! Don't you have eyes?? Did you not **see **where you're heading, you little — "

Much to Allen's confusion, the man gave a sudden halt. His eyebrows slowly furrowed as he gave a second, more thorough look at the boy while wondering where he had seen him before. Having the exaggerative action focused on him, Allen couldn't help but felt a little uneasy — who wouldn't be if a stranger who was so ready to crush you into a bloody pulp this one moment suddenly changed his mind and eyed you like a hungry buzzard instead? Allen gulped — it wasn't like **either** of them would ensure his safety in any way…

"Say…" the man began as realization dawned in his eyes. "You are… You are the student of that rogue Cross, RIGHT?!" accused the man whose voice were gradually getting louder and more threatening. Allen slightly winced; the malice and hatred were so apparent in the adult's tone that the exorcist trainee thought he would most probably understand the man even if he were speaking in a foreign language.

But really, Allen seriously couldn't remember who the man was for the life of his — the master was indebted to so many people from so many countries that the boy had forgotten every single one of them…

/ _It's not the time to think of such thing. /_ the kid thought. _/ If this guy has anything to do with Master's piling debts, I'm surely doomed…_ / "Uh… Who? Master Cross? I — I Never heard of such name…" the white-haired boy decided to lie, hoping that the grown-up would fall for that false piece of information. The man in front of Allen narrowed his eyes skeptically as he formed a malicious sneer and straightforwardly asked the boy, "Oh, is that so? Then why did you refer him as 'Master'?"

_/ Damn. /_

"Huh? 'Master'? No, no! I mean **'Mister'** Cross! Or… whoever his name is… yeah… never — never heard of him at all! I don't know such guy, really!" Allen gave a lame defense, explaining to the distrusting man with occasional gestures and half-assuring expressions — the boy was thankful that it was currently snowing, or the other could definitely see him sweating hard from being nervous…

"Hmph," the man scoffed. "Like **I **would believe such pathetic excuses! Come here, boy! Since I can't find that scoundrel Cross anywhere, **you** are going to pay your master's debts instead!" he hollered as his grubby hand shot out at Allen and dragged the struggling boy away before he had a chance to avoid the mistreatment…

-----

The 12-year-old soon found himself in an old warehouse of some sort; the place itself was empty with only a wooden table and 2 chairs located in the center of the dusty room. The man pulled at Allen harshly and forced him to occupy one of the chair, "Sit down, boy! Let's see what I can get from you!"

The man then proceeded to search Allen for money or some valuables — but of course he found none. And so, after a meticulous interrogation and 3 body checks later, the man was at last convinced that the boy had absolutely nothing to cover Cross' debts… Allen could tell that the man was getting impatient and furious; and by how the other suddenly glared at him and grabbed his front shirt, he knew that he was right…

"Okay, where is it?! I know you must have something good enough! Don't lie to me and spill it! Or you can tell me where your master keeps his fortunes, at the least!" the man threatened, fists clenching at Allen's shirt and veins popping up. Though scared and intimidated, the boy still tried to act tough and gave the man an exasperated look, "How many times must I tell you, Mister? I-have-nothing-valuable-with-me!" He then paused and sighed for dramatic effects before continuing, "And I don't even know if my master has any fortune left!" (even if he did, Allen thought, he was sure that his master would get it first before anyone else…)

The grown-up gave the kid a more menacing look before he dropped him in a crude manner and threw his hands up in the air frustratingly. "Brilliant!" he shouted, shaking his head. "It's just bloody brilliant!" he added before throwing himself onto his seat. He stared into nothingness for a couple of seconds, his trembled hand above his lips. Soon, the man was absent-mindedly groping around his coat, fingers shaking from being nervous. He later dug out a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. With much difficulty, he managed to light a tobacco and inhaled deep.

_/ I was in a grave danger. /_ he thought as he exhaled. He was truly in a rough position — the person he was ordered to look for went missing, and the student of said man (who gave him a sudden ray of hope earlier) had nothing worth taking!

The brawny adult was actually sent by his superior, who also happened to be a local gambling master. His cruelty and tendency to not take failure as an option were enough to put the man in a state of anxiety — he knew what awaited him should he went back empty-handed, and he wasn't prepared to take a chance…

The man glanced half-heartedly at Allen — he had checked his pockets, his old shoes, and that coat of his, but he couldn't find anything more than lint and dusts.

/ _Should I just kidnap him and ask for — Ah, no… I heard that Cross isn't someone who will care for such thing… dammit!_ / he privately thought. The man was frustrated; and desperate situations always led to desperate acts.

He eyed the old coat, contemplating. That coat was aged and worn-out, he thought, but he knew it worth more than the rest of the boy's belongings. He was even sure he could find someone he could sell it to for a couple of shillings — it was better than nothing. After all, the rest of the money he was supposed to collect was up to his luck in finding his target. In the meantime, he hoped that his boss would be temporarily content with some small change.

The man gave a nod of self-assurance, put off his cigarette, and rose from his seat; walking slowly to where Allen was sitting. After a moment of pause, he calmly took the old brown coat laid over the chair. When he was about to go out and leave the kid alone, Allen quickly grabbed the man's hand and shouted, "Sir! What are doing?! You can't take that coat! It's a very important thing to me!"

The big guy glared down at the white-haired apprentice and shoved him away. "I don't have time for this, boy! You should be thankful I don't sell **you** instead! Now get going and tell that master of yours to pay his debts!" he hollered. Allen was grateful the man weren't so bright as to sell him or anything, but he also wouldn't let his most precious item taken away just like that without a fight.

"Sir…" he called out coolly, loud and clear. "What if I find a way to pay my master's debts?" the boy said as he looked at the man with an unreadable emotion.

It seemed to effectively grab the man's attention for he stopped in the middle of his track and turned around to see Allen, eyes filled with doubt and underestimation. "What did you just say, boy?" he asked with mild interest. "I say," the boy began, "what if we make an agreement? What if I promise you I can pay all the debts — by the end of the day?"

What Allen just said increased the man's undivided attention. "Do you… Do you mean it? Do you mean what you just said?" the grown-up asked, hope rising back in his chest. "But… But how? How are you going to do that?"

Allen smiled rather mischievously; he presumed that the guy must be pretty desperate to believe in a kid's words. / _But he made a wise decision nonetheless…_ / he thought as his smile secretly broke into a proud grin. "Good Sir," the boy started as he flashed an angelic smile. "Let's settle this over a deck of cards..."

-

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** "D.Gray-man" and all characters belong to Hoshino Katsura and affiliates.

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry for the ridiculously late update. I need to do lots of research for this chapter, and well, partially because I'm lazy as well… nn; Anyway, there will be lots of Victorian slangs and poker jargons in this chapter, so I provide you with a list of slang vocabularies and links to various sites on the net that have contributed in the making of this chapter. Like always, I hope you enjoy this chapter and leave an R&R. Thanks! n

**P.S.** Merry Christmas 2007 and Happy New Year 2008, _minna_! And happy birthday to Allen! nn And remember, boys and girls, gambling is a big no-no. :-P

**P.S.S.** Somehow the manga and anime make it look like "call" means declaring a winning and opening one's cards, but it actually means staying in a game and matching the bet. Just an info so no one is confused here… nn;

-

**Victorian Slangs Vocabularies:**

**((Mostly from http:// www. tlucretius. net / Sophie / Castle / Victorian slang. html))**

((1)) Chavy – Kid.

((2)) Chink – Money.

((3)) Wanker – Crazy/insane person.

((4)) Jesse – Hell.

((5)) Nipper – Kid.

((6)) Guttersnipe – Homeless child (usually an Arabian).

((7)) Nickey – Simple-minded.

((8)) Let's spread the broads – Let's play poker.

-

**Links To Poker-Related Sites:**

www. 21ace .com

www. pokerexploit .com (this one is pretty complete and well-rounded)

http// en.wikipedia .org / wiki / Poker

-

* * *

-

**-- CARD TRICKS** --

-

/ _I must be mad…_ / the grown-up thought as he trotted down the snow-covered road — Allen by his side. The boy had managed to convince the man to take him to his boss in order to challenge him in a game of cards. Sure, the man had laughed at first, slapping his knee and guffawing while listening to the kid's ludicrous proposal. / _But boy,_ / the older one thought / _was that kid convincing!_ / There was this air of superiority he didn't notice earlier — not to mention his previously non-existent cool tone and those unfaltering looks he gave out. They were so strong he couldn't help but agree to what Allen had suggested him… and that was exactly why they ended up walking together.

After a short while, the man stopped in front of a dark alley. "Wait here." He said curtly to the boy and left with the brown coat held securely in his hands. He scuttled through the narrow road and stopped at the end of the path where a corroded tin door was located. The man gave 2 little knocks. "Jack," he whispered. "It's me, Charles!"

The door was suddenly opened, and a hunched old man showed himself partially at the entrance. "Aye," the man with the gray moustache greeted. "Ya' find that blasted Cross?" he asked with a sly smile. The man called Charles shook his head with a defeated frown plastered on his face. "No, but I do bring someone else…" he said as he turned around and beckoned for Allen to come closer.

"Well… who we 'ave 'ere…?" Jack asked, lifting one curious eyebrow as he made out the approaching small figure that was none other than Allen. "Cross' student," Charles replied. "He's here to pay his master's debts."

"Really?" Jack snorted as he narrowed his eyes and examined Allen from head to toe. "Dun thin' the chavy((1)) worth that much of chink((2))." The old man eventually sneered at the offended-looking boy. "No, we're not going to sell him," Charles corrected. "He's here to challenge Master on poker."

In an instant, the color drained from the older man's face. "Are ya'… MAD?!" he gasped and pulled the other closer to him. "Master shall kill ya' for that!" he whispered frantically. The other sighed and tried to explain, "I know what you're thinking, but the boy insisted! And he's also very serious about—"

"'Ave ya' turned into a WANKER((3))?!" Jack cut in a whispered shout. "How can ya' trust a child's words?! What in the Jesse((4)) happened to ya', Charles?? How can a puny nipper((5)) like 'im gonna do that?!"

Charles sighed and shook his head a little. "Right, I know this sounds ridiculous, but I think the brat can somehow —"

"Jack? Who is that?" a baritone voice was heard from behind the old man. "S-Sir Richard!" Jack stammered, anxiously turning his head to the direction the voice was coming from. Allen used that very moment to take a peep inside. There, he saw a man dressed in fine clothes. A black silk hat adorned his wavy blonde hair, while his gloved hand held a finely polished, oak walking stick. Before Allen had a chance to observe more, the man's blue eyes suddenly locked onto the boy's gray ones. "Hm…? And what is this child doing here?" he queried nonchalantly, strong British accent lacing his words.

"Ah! He is that bastard Cross' student, Sir!" Charles, quickly coming in, answered in haste. "Oh…?" the noble young man said slowly, eyebrow arching in soft amusement.

Allen didn't really understand why, but he disliked the man… There was this aura around him Allen found disturbing. Maybe it was the way he looked at him with such predatory looks, or maybe because Allen knew that the man in front of him was the notorious gambler the people in the inn had vigorously been talking about. In any way, the man gave him the impression of impending doom. And before he realized it, the young boy had been holding his breath.

"And…?" the man named Richard started with a cold tone. "Did I order you to take his student? I thought I've clearly told you to find and drag that pathetic Cross here, **NOT HIS BLOODY LITTLE GUTTERSNIPE**((6))!!" he shouted at the end of his speech as he banged the wooden table nearest to him. In an instant, the small noises and chatters from all the other men in the small area died down as they wondered to themselves about the cause of their superior's wrath.

Charles paled considerably, all trace of hope vanishing. The young noble leant closer to the poor man and whispered in a calm, unnerving tone, "What is the meaning of this, **Mister **Charles? Are you, perhaps, trying to ridicule me with this wretched joke of yours? Shall I remind you of your **own** debts, hm?"

Allen could see that the older one was getting more and more nervous by each syllable of the young man's speech. He noticed that the now-smirking nobleman was enjoying the fear he caused. "You're just a lowly gambler who spend all of his fortune for nothing, aren't you, Charles?" he started again. "And was I not the one who had mercy on you and decided to spare your life? Was I not the one who took you as a subordinate instead and let you pay your debts by collecting other people's money? Was I not — in the truest way — your bloody **OWNER**?! How **DARE** you defy my order!!" he shouted.

Charles winced and bowed his head in submission. "I'm really **terribly** sorry, Sir! I-I've tried my hardest to find Cross, but I still couldn't—Argh!" his speech was cut by a sudden jab at the stomach which made him fall and squirm on the floor in pain. His hand clutched his stomach while he looked at his master pleadingly. "Please spare me, Sir!" said he.

The nobleman narrowed his eyes in contempt and asked Charles callously, "And why would I do that? You fail me, and I thought I've made it clear that I don't take any kind of failure."

"B-But I haven't failed yet!" Charles staggered up and said loudly. "Hah!" the young man scoffed in glee, "Such a pathetic excuse coming from you mouth, you nickey((7)) fool!"

"But it's true! The boy—"

"**SILENCE**!" Richard shouted. He then smiled and looked at him coldly, mischief swirling in his bright turquoise eyes. "I shall enjoy seeing you writhe in pain, Mister Charles, then I shall—"

"Excuse me," a childish voice suddenly rang out. The nobleman turned around and came face-to-face with the white-haired boy. Allen smiled innocently and said, "I'm here to pay my master's debt."

"Oh…?" the nobleman narrowed his mischievous eyes and walked towards the boy. "And **how** exactly are you going to do so, Boy? As far as I know, Cross' debts can as well buy a town, which means that —" he stopped just in front of Allen and sneered, "— his debts cannot be paid even if you work for me for hundreds and hundreds of years..."

"Don't worry, Sir," said the little boy with his smile still etched on his face, "I will pay all of them in just a single night, each and every shilling my master borrowed…"

Richard's grin got wider as he tried to hold his laugh. "But how so, Boy, how so? Do you happen to be a noble too, perhaps?" he asked mockingly while observing the boy in a degrading manner. "I doubt it so, though…" added the young man, which was accompanied by loud snickers from his subordinates.

"I'm quite good at cards myself, Sir, so I fancy challenging you at poker."

Everyone fell into a sudden silence while pairs of bewildered eyes fixed themselves to the little boy. All was completely still for a couple of seconds, until the nobleman abruptly burst out laughing, clutching his stomach in a not-so-noble manner. "Oh HO!" he exclaimed in delight while kept laughing, "What a joke! What a silly little **joke**! Me?? A little child like you challenging this magnificent **Me**?? In poker to boot! Oh, what a laugh indeed!"

Allen waited patiently until the man in front of him regained his composure. After the laughs had been reduced to small hicks and snickers, the boy said, "Yes, that is exactly what I intent to do, Sir, a poker match to get fortunes from you so I can pay my master's debts. As simple and easy as that."

"Oh, you don't know what you're talking about, Boy…" Richard said in delight still. "But you've certainly amused me tonight. And since you've given me such a treat, I'll let you go this time — off you go then, after all, it's not like your master will come to save you anyway…" he dismissed Allen and turned his back on him.

"Sir," the still smiling Allen called out loudly at the retreating figure, "are you afraid of my challenge?"

The man halted and slowly turned his head towards the boy, mischief in his eyes turned into menacing, fiery anger. His lips contorted into a snarl that marred the once gorgeous face. Allen became wary that the man might lunge at him at that very time, but instead, the nobleman opened his mouth and said in livid disbelief, "**Afraid**, you say…?"

He jabbed his walking stick hard onto the ground and breathed out in a heavily restrained voice, "I fear **no one**, and I shall not back away from any challenge, not even pitiful ones coming from a **child** like you! Jack!" he called out to the subordinate who came running to him at once, "Prepare everything…"

And soon after Jack scuttled away and the young nobleman regained his composure, he smiled viciously and said, "Well then, Boy… let's spread the broads((8))…"

-----

"I'll explain the rules; we're playing the 5-card draw poker, with the ante of 1 guinea((9)). No limit…" the man smiled as he said the last sentence. "Come to think about it, what will you bet if you have nothing, Boy?"

"It is true that I have nothing other than an old coat of mine," Allen said as he glanced at the coat held by Charles. "But let me just bet on that. Exchange it with whatever value you wish. And if I manage to win all your money, then you will have to erase my master's debts — and give my coat back."

"And if you lose?" the nobleman asked.

"You can do whatever you wish to me, Sir."

"Very well, then…" Richard said coldly. "I'll let you have 100 guineas as the value of that coat. But heed my words, Boy… I'll make you regret ever insulting me…"

The next minute was filled by the sound of cards being shuffled by Richard. The nobleman started as the dealer as his two other subordinates and Allen played as regular players. After the cards had been shuffled and all players had each cut them orderly, the cards were dealt in a swift manner.

Allen could see the professionalism of the man by how he dealt the cards and the air of confidence radiating from him. He inwardly bit his lip. Truth be told, he wasn't really **that** good at cards. So he beat some crooks occasionally, but he was facing a notorious gambler here, and now he wasn't so sure he could handle this so smoothly.

Allen mentally smacked himself. / _Focus, Allen! You can't win if you keep worrying about it!_ / he thought. He quickly stopped his stream of thought and observed each player seriously. The nobleman was looking at his cards with an unreadable expression — Allen silently cursed. He should have known better than to expect the man to show any kind of weakness to him.

The boy shifted his glance to the man on the right (he named him Crook A). That one tried to look neutral, but Allen could see the corners of his mouth twitched to form a smile. / _He must've had a good hand…_ / Allen thought. He then shifted his gaze to the left. The man — who Allen marked as Crook B — was downright frowning. It could either mean that the guy had a terrible hand, or that the man was a pro at lying. A further observation managed to somewhat convince the boy, for he noted the perspiration and slight trembling the man had — those were too much for an act.

After he finished his little investigation, the boy finally looked at his own cards: King of Hearts, Jack of Diamonds, 2 spades, 3 spades, and 2 clubs — a pair and nothing else. He could still change his cards, but of course Allen wouldn't need to since he already had the perfect hand hidden in his sleeves. Still, he would pretend to change his cards when it was his turn.

"Okay, let's start." the nobleman finally announced.

"2 guineas." Crook A said as he tossed the coins.

"Raise to 10 guineas."

"WHAT??" both subordinates yelled as the smiling boy declared his raise.

"You sure are confident with your hand, Boy…" the nobleman said. "And I'd like to see the truth of your self-reliance. Call." He announced as he matched the amount Allen established.

Crook A decided to call as well while Crook B folded. Then, they entered the second phase in which they could discard and replace their cards. Crook A replaced 2 cards while Allen replaced 3 — he secretly used his sleight of hand to make it seem like he took the cards Richard gave him while he actually slid the cards hidden in his sleeve and exchanged them with the ones in his hand. Right now, Allen had a Straight Flush in possession.

"Check." Crook A declared after changing his cards. Allen wondered if the man wasn't so sure of his cards anymore. Again, the man might be bluffing… but the kid was sure the man couldn't beat his hand.

"Raise to 20 guineas." Again, Allen declared.

A look of shock was apparent in Crook A's face right now, but the nobleman was still as unreadable as ever. The young man then smiled evilly and said, "Raise to 50 guineas." Crook A was immediately out of the game by declaring a fold. Allen saw the cruel, challenging look Richard gave him and felt his heart throbbing faster in fear. However, he unconsciously smiled and said, "Call."

Then, it was time to reveal the cards. Trying to make himself look as confident as he could, the boy showed his cards and pronounced, "Straight Flush!"

The nobleman's lips spread to form an eerie smile as he saw the 2-3-4-5-6 spades of Allen's. And with a victorious tone, he showed his hand and declared, "I win!"

Allen felt a tug in his chest as he saw the cards: 8-9-10-J-Q hearts — almost a Royal! The boy bit his lower lip and began to feel nervous. / _He sure is good like people say he is…_ /

"Well, then," Richard said as he took the 132 guineas in the pot, "are you sure you can still beat me, Boy?"

Allen, who only had 40 guineas left in his hand, looked at the man unfalteringly and voiced out, "Of course."

The game then resumed, and Allen was determined to pull a Royal Straight Flush now. But he had quite of a bad luck this time, for the Jack of Diamonds and the Jack of Spade he had wanted had been discarded. Allen learnt beforehand that the probability of having a straight flush was 64,073 : 1, but it would still be too risky to assume that Richard wouldn't pull it off. Besides, if Allen pull a Royal Straight Flush and someone else had the Jack he used, he would get busted. Thus, leaving him with no choice but to fold and lose another 10 guineas.

The next round soon came. The position of a dealer was in Allen now, and he knew that if he wanted to win, he would need to get a Royal Straight Flush. It sure was easier to control the cards when he was the dealer. This way, he could deal whatever card he wanted to other players and made sure no one got the cards he wanted to use. After the compulsory card shuffling, cutting, and dealing, he was back at contemplating the way to win this round.

"5 guineas." Crook B said.

"Tell you what, Boy…" the nobleman suddenly said, "I'll bet **all **of my money and you bet all of yours too. This way, we don't need to go all night to determine the winner — and you can start having the nightmare of your life afterwards…" Richard sneered.

Allen raised his head and looked at the smiling Richard. / _Could it be that he had something up his sleeves? _/ Allen thought. But the kid knew he would win anyway, and so he agreed, "All right. I bet everything…" The two subordinates, understanding the situation, purposely folded and let the two remaining gamblers had their match.

"I'll start first," Richard said as he lowered his hands to show the cards. Allen was watching with sheer anticipation. He feared that the young man might pull something similar to his own move... a spade suit Royal Straight Flush like his, perhaps? He knew no one would side with him if both of them had the same pair of cards... He unconsciously breathed through his mouth as his eyes watched the action in a slow motion. A little bit more… Was it something he wanted it to be? Was it…Yes! It was a heart!

Allen's heart leapt with joy and he immediately grinned and showed his hand, a spade suit Royal Straight Flush. "I win, Sir! Now you have to erase my master's debt and give my coat ba—"

"Just wait a minute there…" Richard suddenly said in utter rage and disbelief. "I think you were cheating, Boy…"

Allen suddenly felt his stomach turning. "M-Me? Cheating? Of course not! Do you want to accuse me of cheating so you can avoid your loss??" he pretended to be angry so he wouldn't get caught.

"Then prove your innocence! Let me take a look at your sleeves!" he demanded.

Allen felt as if it was the end of his life as the enraged young man seized him. He shut his eyes to accept the blow he thought he was getting, of the words "Ah HA!" he sure he was going to hear, and of the fact that he was never going to see the sunlight anymore — but just when the young man was about to check under his sleeves…

**BANG!**

There was a loud explosive sound at the front door, and soon people in uniforms started barging in without a warning — they were the police! Roars and yelps of people were soon heard as more and more of those uniformed men came and started catching the people inside. Richard, in his daze and astonishment, dropped Allen and tried to run himself, leaving the boy with a chance to escape. With the speed of a lightning, he located the brown coat lying on the floor, seized it, and sneaked out from the chaotic place.

While running away, he spared one last glance over his back and saw the nobleman being confiscated by a group of policemen. And that, was the last time he ever saw him…

-----

----

---

"You were the one who called the police??" Allen asked in disbelief at the red-haired man in front of him.

Cross Marian, the irresponsible exorcist general, was lying nonchalantly on a sofa with high-grade wine in his hand. He had finally come back from his mission in Tunisia — or so he admitted. Allen personally thought he was there to be in the company of women and borrowing money again…

"Why do you sound… so surprised, Idiot… Apprentice?" he asked, half-slurred from his drunkenness.

"Well, Master… you don't usually… erm, do such troublesome thing…" Allen said carefully, trying his hardest to avoid accusing his master of never bothering to save his life.

Cross glanced sideways to Allen and admitted, "Yeah… that was troublesome all right… you have to thank me… for that… do so by… earning more money…"

Allen twitched as he heard that. Expected from his Master, he guessed. Then he continued asking, "But how do you know where I was?"

"Well… I wasn't exactly… looking for you… Just happened to… spot you in the middle… of the street…" he paused to take a gulp of wine. "Ah, nice wine… it's a hundred-year-old, see?" he smirked as he beckoned for Allen to read the inscription on the bottle's label.

When Allen gave him the look, Cross shrugged and continued, "Anyway, followed you till… that gambling place… Stumbled yourself upon… that bastard Richard, eh?" he sneered and took another gulp. "I didn't exactly feel like… going through all the trouble for… saving you… but you're… damn lucky… a policeman asked me… what I was doing while… watching you… Heh. He thought I was… up to something… so I told him… that the gambler the police was… looking for… was inside the building… You know the rest…"

"But Master… how come I didn't see you when I escaped?" Allen queried some more.

Cross raised his eyebrow and looked at his disciple incredulously. "Who said I was… waiting there? The police… will come anyway… so I left and… bought this wonderful thing…" he grinned as he showed Allen the liquor in his hand (Allen fought the urge of hitting his master for that remark).

"Anyway… stop procrastinating and… go work… Get me… more money…" Cross instructed as he succumbed back into his drinking.

The boy felt his eyebrow twitch as he heard that… How could his master still order him around like that after what he had gone through?? For that very man's sake to boot! Well… partially, at least, the boy thought as he looked down at the coat that was folded in his arms. He smiled and unfolded it, thinking about keeping it back in its place when something dropped from amidst the worn-out fabric.

Puzzled, the boy knelt down and took the curious little thing — a deck of cards! It must have somehow been dropped and covered by the coat when everyone was running away. He looked at it and remembered the match; it was quite a relief that he managed to get away, and the fact that he won from that notorious gambler was a merry achievement in itself. Smiling smugly, he put the deck of cards inside his pants pocket.

"Hey… what're you still… doing here…?" Suddenly his master's voice rang out. "Go find… the money."

At that moment, Allen had a very bold idea. With an evil smirk not usually seen on his face, he took the deck out from his pocket, walked to his unsuspecting master, and said in the sweetest tone he could muster.

"Master, let's settle this over a deck of cards…"

-

**-- END --**


	3. Omake

**-- OMAKE --**

Allen was kneeling perfectly still on the floor with his forehead completely glued onto the cold ground. His body was terribly aching to the point of trembling from muscle ache. His nerves felt like splitting any second now, and his chest and lungs felt hot and in need of fresh air — which he couldn't get in such position.

/ _I shouldn't have said that…I really shouldn't…_ / He thought and sighed regretfully. He knew it he shouldn't push his luck, especially not on his master…

"Settle this over a deck of cards, you say…? Hah!" Cross scolded as he took another gulp of wine.

Allen had a defeated look plastered on his face while he moaned in his mind / _I knew it I shouldn't challenge my master at Poker…_ /

-

**-- (THE REAL) END --**


End file.
